And Not An Obol Less to Pay
by Grand Phoenix
Summary: Tell me, Sasuke: Was it worth it? [Two-shot AU, diverging from the first fight at the Valley of the End]
1. Chapter 1

**Notes1:** For the past couple days, I've been in the process of planning revisions for _Heart of Fire, Soul of Calamity_ and plotting narrative threads that are still barebones in the brainstorming process but given just enough material to remind myself what I'm working on whenever I go back to the notebook that currently contains them.

As I was doing so, I decided to take a look at the Sasuke Recovery Mission Arc as part of the research process (and as of this post, that's all the spoilers you're getting out of HoFSoC!). I'm honestly not sure what compelled me to write this beyond the simple fact that, in a lot of Naruto-centric fiction, those stories begin with Sasuke and Naruto capping off their fight at the Valley of the End with the Chidori and the Rasengan, a scene that has established itself a signatory defining moment in the franchise canon but also a standard cliché that, more often than not, ends with Naruto either dragging Sasuke home to get banished by a laughably OOC cast (save Hinata, because she often serves as the primary designed love interest; and love interests like her have to be as pure as driven snow to fit that particular narrative mold), get the shit beat out of him by an evil!OOC!Kakashi and get taken back to Konoha...only to be banished because...he accomplished his mission? What?

Barring the serious implications that arise from exiling a hidden village's one and only Jinchuuriki for committing to his duties while said village itself is getting back on its feet _right after_ being invaded by Orochimaru (a notorious rogue ninja) and Sunagakure (which was manipulated by the former, who was under the guise of their Kazekage) just as they've installed Tsunade as Fifth Hokage, I always found the banished!Naruto stories (regardless of whether or not he ends up in another village, into the West, or somehow miraculously rebuilds Uzushio in a span of three or so years) to be poorly written that suffer under the same shlock and bullshit that is usually become run-of-the-mill for _Naruto_ fanfiction.

So I wanted to do something that is - hopefully - a little different than the standardized norm that's precedence in the VotE fight. It's a very short story; I don't think this will go any longer than two chapters, and they are simply meant to be short in length. I doubt this will be expanded upon, either, outside of my own lackadaisical leisure; if anything it'd just be a retread of pretty much all of _Shippuden_ minus _Boruto_ , and it would render the entire backdrop Asura and Indra have that retroactively affected all of canon very, very moot. (That is, if I were to go down that route, but it'd be more introspective and much less bombastic/DBZ-lite than how _Shippuden_ wound up being.)

* * *

In this moment, with the high cackles of birds drowning out the falls and the stifling, broiling heat of demonic chakra setting the water to steam, the world forever changes.

They meet at the center of the valley, Chidori and Rasengan. Their cries resound in their heads, though their mouths move; who would care to hear them? The colossal buildup of energy explodes outward, conceals them in a dark sphere and shields the naive and the bold from witnessing the war that wages from within.

Sasuke snarls at the blond, whiskered face that matches his own. The fire in the pit of his stomach, that which had smoldered and spat sparks with each blow traded, blazes to a volcanic inferno at the pair of red cat's-eyes that bear down on him. Eyes that are filled with the righteous fury of a crusade that will be found and met with all the ungodly determination humans are wont to express at their most ambitious.

They are lamp-bright, like the first stars to appear in eventide.

They are nothing like Itachi's, cold and stark in the husk of an automaton installed with only a singular purpose. The perfect soldier in a world of righteous killers and ignorant optimists.

But even perfection can die. No one thing can last forever, not even the prodigal son of the Clan Uchiha.

(Not even Sasuke himself.

(Sasuke doesn't believe that. He was kept alive for a reason. All that power within a single person, and for what express reason other than to show the world what kind of person Uchiha Itachi really is? There is no glory to be had in it. There is no _honor_.

He made the wrong choice, that one. The worst one a genius like him could have ever made in his _life_.)

All the answers to his problems—and the road to the future he will carve himself—lie within his grasp.

Sasuke reaches out at the same time Naruto swipes elongated claws at his forehead protector. Reaches for the flame that rises up from his belly, scorches the walls of his heart, and sets every single thought in his head alight until only the face of his brother backlit by the cold, uncaring cosmos remain. Mocking. Eternal.

Naruto coughs blood. His jaw goes slack.

His arm goes wide, missing Sasuke's forehead protector.

An ember in the ashes begins to glow. Slowly, flickering.

And then the world behind his eyes _burns_.

* * *

When the light fades and the ringing in his ears subside, Sasuke stirs, prostrate on the ground. There's a copper tang in his mouth, almost steel, and the incessant pounding in his limbs and his head is almost enough to make him pass out again.

The flaring of the curse mark on the back of his neck reminds him not to, and so for several moments Sasuke sucks in large gulps of damp air, one shaky breath at a time.

Something small and red falls and splashes into view.

Sasuke blinks, and another drop descends. It lands on orange fabric and spreads thin, reedy tendrils across it.

They touch the larger, darker patch next to it and merge.

His breath catches, sudden and painful. He sits up, hissing at the dizziness that tosses his vision sideways and sets his stomach to roll and fumble. Inhaling sharply through his nostrils, quieting the discontent within, Sasuke presses his lips tight and forces himself to focus.

In this moment, the world stops moving.

Naruto lies underneath him, scarcely breathing. His eyes are no longer feral red but the calm, soothing blue of a sunny afternoon. They look past Sasuke, past the sky, at the residual chakra that rises like birds taking flight.

Blood pumps out from the hand buried in his chest.

Sasuke stares.

"You did it…Sasuke," Naruto rasps. His lips barely move, so the words come out less coherent and more of a drunken, sleepy slur. The tip of his tongue pokes out and doesn't recede back into his mouth, like a turtle with only the crown of its head sticking from its shell. "You really...did it. You got...exactly what you...wanted."

A few, trembling, shallow breaths—breaths that make the heart under Sasuke's palm twitch erratically.

Then:

"Are you...happy...now?"

Sasuke yanks his hand out, rises, stumbles away from Naruto as though he's infected. Clutches it to his breast, glances down at it, sees the blood caking it all the way up to the wrist and dribbling in rivulets toward the pointed slope of his elbow.

Bile rises in his throat, and this time he can't fight it. This time he turns around and lets the contents come out.

Once he's done, he falls to his knees, gasping and shaking. He throws his hands out and catches himself just as he's about to hit the ground face-first.

He sees his reflection in a puddle of water before him, broken and stabbed repeatedly by rain he hasn't noticed until now.

Staring back at him, alarmed, pale, and agape, is a pair of peculiar Sharingan. The tomoe are gone, melded together into a red, six-pointed star, inlaid against an iris that has gone completely black.

His mind hearkens back to the night of the massacre, of Itachi standing tall and imposing above his sniveling, kneeling form. The moon, towering above the compound, its buildings purged of life, its streets littered with broken bodies and running with the blood of their ancestors and their lost future. His Sharingan were conjoined in harmony, black scythe-blades fit for harvest.

Sasuke raises his hands, stares at them. Lowers them and stares at his mirror image.

 _Hate me, Sasuke. Hate me and live, like the coward you are. When the day comes and you have my eyes, only then will you find me again._

 _Only then will you have the power to destroy me...and, perhaps, restore the honor you have so foolishly clung to for so long._

 _The Mangekyo Sharingan,_ he thinks with awe. _I have it...I finally have them. I finally have the power to kill Itachi._

Coughing, harsh and ragged, but weak. Still, Sasuke's head whips up in Naruto's direction, wondering if the boy's gotten back up on his feet somehow. Wonders if the hole he made from the Chidori has healed, has knitted his lung back together, stitched the torn muscle and built fractured bones in his arms and ribs anew with that odd, sinister chakra that looks just like-

No.

It doesn't matter anymore.

Uzumaki Naruto is going to die.

His closest friend.

Sasuke stares.

All around him, the rain continues to pour.

Time passes by without a care. Sasuke doesn't move, doesn't so much as stir.

Then—a pinprick, like static cling on cloth. The hairs on the back of his neck rise. The spittle on his tongue goes dry. His heartbeat picks up a frantic tempo and runs away with it.

Sasuke gasps awake.

Chakra, flashing and ephemeral, is coming this way— _fast_.

Sasuke glances at Naruto's body. No other sound has escaped him since. With these new eyes, he can tell, in clear detail, how shallow, how ghostly his breathing has become.

Something settles in his chest, like a weighted stone. Presses down, down, down.

Cracks-

(He will not be the first. He is far from the last. How could he be?)

The chakra draws closer.

Sasuke takes one step back. A second, a third. He dares not tear his eyes away from Naruto.

Then he turns around and runs, runs as much as his battered body will allow him. He bites back the hiss of pain that slips out as he staggers and slaps a hand over the curse mark that radiates heat through and keeps going, making a beeline straight for the woods on the other side of the valley and onto the unbeaten path within.

From there, he lets the Mangekyo Sharingan guide him west, toward Sound Country.

 _Are you happy now, Sasuke?_

 _You got exactly what you wanted._

 _Are you happy now?_

Sasuke's breath hitches, digs his nails deeper into the curse mark. Pulls the line of chakra into his eyes to brighten the surroundings and quickens his pace.

He doesn't stop running.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes1:** I had considered splitting this up into two parts - one for Kakashi, and one for Sakura; however, Kakashi isn't so much as a footnote in this story compared to the prominence Sakura took and held onto since the story's inception. I like the idea that after everything Kakashi has gone through since his birth (starting with Sakumo's suicide, Obito's "death", Rin's and Minato's and Kushina's on top of all the events thereafter) has him snapping and just throwing caution to the wind, one foot on the moral event horizon that would make him no better Sasuke in his quest for revenge.

I know people like to joke around and say there are no therapists in the ninja world, but you'd think Konoha - Sarutobi - would refrain from giving a genin cell to Kakashi and instead opt to keep a tighter leash on him. If anything, he had the perfect set-up to be a character whose fate would be just as tragic as his origins were circumstances different and, for example, he had not come across Yamato or the Hokage post-Kyuubi attack (but these events, while they serve as padding, are strictly anime-only). On the other hand, setting him up to be an even more tragic figure than he is would have wasted all the potential that would come about in canon, depriving him of all the development that would have started in the beginning of the series as jounin captain to Team Seven first and Sixth Hokage last. He is the last person I'd have made Hokage; as much as people rail on Naruto being born into royalty and just about given everything on a silver platter from the moment, he should have inherited the mantle from Tsunade and go from there. It makes just as much sense as Gaara, who's around the same age as Naruto, Kazekage in _Shippuden_.

 **Notes2:** Speaking of potential: If there was ever a character whose growth was wasted, I'd say Sakura - who is the closest to a main female character you can get in _Naruto_ \- would be the poster girl among those who have been neglected. I've read what-if scenarios and ideas bounced around between here, AO3, and Tumblr, but I find that some of them get a little too personally heated for my liking, the kinds of post that claim the lack of development in his female cast is due to Kishimoto being misogynistic (which, in all fairness, he's admitted he's bad at writing).

Nonsense aside, I think, among all the Naruto-centric fanfics, Sakura would be the second character I'd point to and say she would have benefitted a lot more from taking queues from not just Tsunade but also from Kakashi (as Sasuke left post-VotE and Naruto went with Jiraiya, so at least she could have gone to him then for more training), Yamato and even Hashirama (I'll admit, I do like the idea of Mokuton!Sakura, but that ship has long past sailed and somehow Moegi ended up with it that has yet to be elaborated on if at all) due to her connections with the Fifth Hokage. Or, if not have her specialized in senjutsu then as a weapons master based off all her early sketches.

* * *

"This is as far as we can go, Kakashi," Paku says, after they've spent nearly a half hour in relative silence. "The scents are gone." He sniffs his nose for emphasis.

The rain has lessened somewhat, but the smell will linger for a while yet. That's not a good sign. "Do you know where it ends?" he asks.

"Here." Paku lands on a branch, puts all his weight on his paws, and leaps forward. Kakashi hastens after him.

A few minutes later, they clear the forest.

Kakashi's blood freezes at the sight that awaits him. "No…."

On the ground, away from the greedy tide of the waterfall, lies Naruto. Eyes closed, unmoving. Unresponsive. Even from behind the cloth of his protector, Kakashi's Sharingan activates and sees the two chakras—the boy's and the Fox's—diminishing from his pathway system, like water going down the proverbial drain.

He shakes his head in a slow, dumb motion. "No," he breathes. "No no no no." He walks toward Naruto in a stumbling lurch that has him overshoot his step and pitch on his knee, but he rights himself—almost lunges back in his suddenness—and keeps going. Gets his feet under him and rushes forward. "Naruto!" he cries. "Naruto!"

"Kakashi!" Paku calls, and chases after him.

Kakashi all but collapses next to him, hands glowing with healing green chakra and hovering shy above his chest. "By the Sage," he whispers. There's a hole, round and perfect, that goes right by his heart, the edges frayed with skin tissue. If there has been any blood, it's been washed clean from the rain.

Naruto is not breathing. The Fox's chakra is not reacting.

Kakashi's head starts to spin. The world threatens to upend itself and spill him over. Through his mask, he opens his mouth and breathes quick, shallow pants. _Not again,_ his heartbeat tells him, and with quickening repetition. _Not again, not again, not again._

 _I failed,_ is the only thought resonating loudly in his head. _I failed._

"Kakashi." The word is muffled, and Kakashi looks off to the side to see Paku place something oblong and metallic on the ground. He sits down on his haunches and stares back somberly at him. "I found this off the path across the way. It's Sasuke's."

Sasuke.

The word alone sends something cold and snakelike slithering through his veins, creeps along the hollows of his bones, and stuffs itself in Euclidean knots in the very center of his stomach. It's a hard and greasy weight that leaves him feeling slightly nauseous. It is the same sensation he experienced when Minato and Kushina died, when Rin died, when Obito died.

And now…now.

The Sharingan heats up, digs tendrils of lance-bright pain past his retina and into his brain. Kakashi ignores it, lifts his head up to stare past the river where the woods open up on the other side and plunge into darkness.

Lightning chakra sparks and crackles between the fingertips of his left hand. He flexes them once, twice. Then slowly, with enough pressure to make the bones therein ache and brush together, he closes it into a tight fist that splits the leather of his glove in half.

"Hey," Paku says. Then, loud and harsh, "Hey! Get a hold of yourself, man!"

Although it's covered by his protector's cloth, Kakashi regards him out of the corner of his eye with a quiet, tranquil fury. "I have a hold of myself," he rumbles.

"No, you don't! Tend to Naruto first. We'll let the Hokage take over from there."

"And if she can't save him?"

Paku doesn't answer.

Kakashi looks away.

* * *

When he rendezvous with the medic ninja on the journey back, Kakashi's silence at the doctor's question is enough to stop him in mid-sentence; the grave look he sends Naruto's way says everything and nothing the Copy Ninja dreads and hopes for. "Just take me to Lady Tsunade at once," he tells the man, trying not to let the begging bleed into his voice.

The medic does.

They arrive a couple hours from the back gate and make their way to Konoha General Hospital, and Kakashi lets the doctor lead him to where the nurses direct them to Tsunade's last known location: at the Intensive Care Ward, Room 6.

They come upon her standing before Shikamaru, Shikaku, and Temari, perhaps belaying the news on the condition of Neji, Choji, and Kiba, her expression soft with a slight but relieved smile on her face.

Kakashi doesn't care for any of that. He comes to a stop and hangs back to watch the head medic sprint up to the Hokage and relay the news.

He has never seen light get so quickly snuffed out until today.

* * *

From there, it doesn't take long for word to get out.

For the public, it goes like this:

Uzumaki Naruto is dead—dead, by the hands of Uchiha Sasuke, the sole survivor of his clan. For them, Naruto is just another statistic in the registry and a short article in the obituary, another son of Konoha lost to the cycle of fate well before his time; such is the way of the ninja.

For them, with time, Sasuke will become another statistic in the registry as one of the many shinobi who have turned their back on the Will of Fire and sought comfort in the cold, hungering shadows that offer power beyond their mortal comprehension, beyond anything they have ever been taught in a world of limited viewpoints and useless, outdated politics that always promise but never deliver peace in the truest, most ideal sense of the word.

Uchiha Sasuke will be written off as a lost cause who must be put down for the greater good, for even embers in a dying fire are wont to burst back to life if not attended to. There will be shame, there will be sadness, and there will be anger—anger at him, for betraying friend and country for a man who murdered their beloved Hokage, and anger that all his potential in that ancient, noble blood will have been wasted and for nothing.

Oh, there will be anger toward Naruto; he was his teammate and the only person who managed to keep up with him against all odds (no one could argue against that). But even seeing that, everyone knows—to some extent, because people aren't stupid and can put two and two together—he had the Fox in him, and some had the gall to say that having that foul demon inside the boy has brought all this trouble and ill fortune upon their heads nearly thirteen years in the making. These will be of the belief that Sasuke—and everyone around him—simply being in the presence of his company drove him mad, so characteristically off the mark as to seemingly be another person altogether, and run as far away from him as possible. He is the future Clan Head of the Uchiha, after all; his purity had to be maintained, so what better way to escape madness than fly from one pair of arms to another?

But on the other hand, the public will be equal parts afraid and relieved.

Afraid: that the Sharingan may now be well and truly lost to Konoha. For all its stress and penalties that come with it, it is by leaps and bound more precious and powerful than the Byakugan, for what other jutsu than that of the fabled Mokuton could boast the claim of controlling a tailed beast into submission?

And then there is relief: that although Naruto is gone, at least the Fox went with him. It will be a long, long time yet before it reforms and walks the earth once again. Perhaps things will start getting better now.

(Better for him to die than to be banished into the unknown, and what kind of a fool do you have to be to throw away your most prized military asset? Certainly not Lady Tsunade, and most certainly not Danzou, as much as he is silently lamenting the loss of a powerful weapon. Even Homura and Kohane would see Naruto's death as an unnecessary but expected casualty that could have been avoided had his potential not been wasted after all these years.

(Just imagine, what Uzumaki Naruto could have been, were he still alive: a chuunin, a jounin, an ANBU, an ambassador of peace. Perhaps, even, the greatest Hokage Konoha would have ever known.

(But those doors are closed to them.

(Such a waste.)

* * *

For Sakura, however, she barely has any recollection of the past week. There is only the sensation that makes it feel as though she has gone through the motions, drifting from one day to another in a daze, where time is meaningless and the world is plastic window dressing.

No one, nothing, lasts forever.

Sometimes they are just cut shorter much sooner than others.

Sakura doesn't cry, not right away. Shinobi aren't supposed to, it's one the rules.

It's long after Master Kakashi pulls her off to the side, away from Ino and away from all the bustle that was happening all around them, that she realizes three things:

One: The rule that states shinobi cannot cry is a load of crock.

Two: Master Kakashi is just as human as everyone else—from the slight tremble he fought to keep out of his voice to the crinkle of his exposed grey eye that was, for once, not an indication of the dark, trickster humor he is often known for spouting to friend and foe alike.

And last of all: she, Haruno Sakura, is a fool and useless as a ninja.

She's not sure which of those hit the hardest; not even her inner self can decide.

The tears come unbidden, but when her parents find her it's to the sight of her curled up on the floor with her head in her hands, body wracked with spasms.

 _I could have done so much more,_ she had said. _I could have been_ something _. Instead I did_ nothing _. I was_ nothing.

 _I am_ nothing.

Nothing.

If there is ever a word to best describe Haruno Sakura in that moment, it would be this.

 _Nothing._

During those few days, she would wonder in those soft, quiet moments set aside by herself, what she would have done had Naruto lived. What could she have said, if he were to have told her that he failed to uphold the promise of a lifetime to her? If he apologized?

Eventually, after much mulling and existential contemplation, she settled on this:

 _Don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about._

 _If anyone should apologize, it should be me._

 _I should be sorry for being cruel to you, knowing you didn't have any parents._

 _I should be sorry for thinking you were anything less than a person._

 _I should be sorry for not being the teammate I should have been when everyone needed it the most._

 _I should be sorry for putting my own needs before everyone else._

 _I should be sorry for not doing anything substantial that would benefit the team in the long run._

 _I'm sorry for being so weak._

 _And-_

(And here she would close her tiny hand into an equally tiny fist, each ministration growing a little more stronger and a little more painful with each passing day.)

 _And I'm sorry...for ever making you swear to that stupid, stupid promise._

* * *

She never tells herself, aloud or in the silence of her own company, she's going to change for the better, and during that mourning period it's not readily apparent she's going to at all.

But as the days grow shorter and the nights grow longer, the leaves dropping dead in decadent piles and the temperature starts to plummet, her parents are the first people to see the first telltale signs that something has changed in their daughter. They notice it mostly around the night of the annual memorial day festival honoring the fallen in the Nine-Tails' attack, when the bonfires in the village plaza are roaring at their highest and the party-goers are competing to drown them out with their drunken yells and raucous laughter.

It's when Lady Tsunade is presenting the speech at the Memorial Stone around the time everything starts to wind down they see the hardness in Sakura's eyes. The quiet, dull emptiness that stares into the light as the Hokage sets the Fox effigy ablaze with a spark of chakra that consumes the straw beast whole in a matter of seconds.

Kizashi is the one who approaches her, beats Mebuki to it just as she's about to start forward, and is taken aback by what he sees. It's the face his fellow ninja wore when they were on night watch, not moving from where they stood, as though they had spotted something that captivated their attention and would be of insignificant importance to everyone else were the secret be told.

It's the kind that mesmerizes and lulls the hardiest of men into waking dreams, not young girls who are years away from the cusp of adulthood.

"Everything alright, Sakura?" he ventures, attempting to pass off as casual.

She doesn't tear her gaze from the fire. Her expression doesn't waver. "Yeah," she says. "I'm fine."

(He will realize, almost three years down the line, that it will be far from it.)

* * *

From here, the idea begins to take shape, and Sakura holds onto it long enough for her to get it over and done with before those first, hesitant seeds sprout and dig their roots deeper into her mind.

(It's also been a week too long since her last mission with Master Kakashi...but Kakashi rarely speaks nowadays, often sending her letters via messenger bird when he requires her to attend the training sessions that have become ritualistic in their ministrations. The aura of grief and self-loathing that's clung to him for the past three months is gone, replaced with one that is cold and dark like the nights in Snow Country she's read about in the books at the library. His strides are long and purposeful, back straight and ramrod. He doesn't hide the Sharingan from her anymore. The porn he used to read while Naruto and Sasuke tried in vain to land even the slightest graze of a punch on him is gone.

("I found them to a distraction," Kakashi told her, when she asked what became of them. Just a simple comment that had nothing to do to break the awkwardness that had settled between them. "It's just you and me now. It's about time I start taking your—our training much more seriously. Don't you agree?"

("Um. Y-Yeah."

(Kakashi nodded, lips pressed firmly. "Good. I want you at your absolute best. You're a ninja now, and that means the world will go out of its way to bend you over and screw you raw if you're not careful." His eyes narrowed and his face grew hard. It was the first time, among many others, that Sakura missed the mask and wished he would take it back so she would not have to see the grim reality staring her down and boring right into her soul. "Will you let it screw you over, Sakura?"

("No, Master Kakashi. I," she gulped, took a deep breath, "I'd rather screw it right back, if it tried to do that to me."

(He smiled. "Thatta girl. I'll show you how. You listen to me and I'll have you on the fast-track to putting it where it counts."

(She smiled back at him, trying not to let the unease and the slimy, creeping dread that settled knotted in her stomach. "Of course, Master."

(Of course.)

She banishes the thought. Once she's situated for the day, Sakura makes an excuse to her parents about going to the Third Training Ground, which they buy into without preamble.

When the house is out of sight and she's halfway there, she changes course and heads right for the Academy.

The jounin stationed at the entrance to the administrative wing ask her what business she has. When she tells them, they point her in the direction to her destination, to which she thanks them and goes on her way.

She rounds the corner and approaches the door, hand closing around the knob when Lady Tsunade speaks up, voice low and hushed. "I don't know how we're going to do this, Jiraiya. There's barely anyone in Konoha alive whose reserves were as large as Naruto's."

Her heart stutters painful, as though it's been pierced through by a lance. Her breath hitches, and later she will be thankful that neither the Hokage or her guest heard her then and there.

Sakura pulls her hand away from the door, lets it hang in the air.

She listens closely.

"It won't matter how you'll go about it, Princess," Jiraiya's voice says, and he sounds as equally somber. "Whatever you do, and whomever you find, the Akatsuki are going to go after them, and they won't stop until they have what they want."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I'm just saying. Look at it this way: Naruto dying sets them back a bit."

"Naruto dying won't stop them in the _slightest_. There are still eight others out there just like him. For all we know the Nine-Tails could regenerate tomorrow and it wouldn't make any goddamn difference."

"Well, surely there's somebody you could find who could be its container? Someone with plenty of control to keep it under lock and key?"

A pause. Then: "I had considered Tenzou," Lady Tsunade begins tentatively. "He has the Wood Release and has shown potential to manifest at almost the same level my grandfather did at the height of the Warring States Era."

"Almost," Jiraiya emphasizes.

The Hokage sighs in agreement. "Yes. Almost. And that's why I won't ask him to carry this burden. If he dies, so will the Wood Release and all the secrets with it." Another breath, tired and quiet, and then a turn of a page. "Can you think of anyone else?"

Jiraiya hums. "What about Kakashi?"

"No. Have you seen him? I can't rely on a soldier who's only purpose in life now is to avenge Minato's son and exact revenge on the Akatsuki. And," here her voice drops, and Sakura has to lean forward, strain her ears, and ignore the frantic drumming of her pulse to catch the rest of the words, "who is to say...that when Akatsuki is eliminated, Kakashi won't turn on us? He has the Sharingan. I'm sure you've heard of all the rumors going around years ago that the Uchiha were involved in the Fox's attack."

"Then for everyone's sake, princess, you ought to do something about him. Before he decides to run his last student into the ground. If you don't...well, needs must what needs must."

"It won't come to that. Unless Kakashi poses a threat that endangers Konoha, I won't make a move against him. I'll make sure he will be watched and doesn't do anything that will bring harm to himself or anyone else he interacts with." Another pause. "I won't let Naruto's sacrifice in vain. I won't let anyone who sacrifices themselves to become a jinchuuriki."

There's more, but Sakura doesn't stick around.

She leaves, heart in her throat and colder than she's ever felt in her life.

* * *

It takes three days for Sakura to right the axis of her world that's been off-kilter all these months to some degree of balance. 'Some', however, is an understatement.

The first day is spent going through those same motions she spent mourning Naruto—numb, lost, and unable to concentrate. But this time, in the back of her mind, she knows her parents will pick up on it and press for answers if they think she doesn't act like her usual self: going to the flower shop and visit Ino and Team 10, training with Master Kakashi (who wears the dried blood on his uniform with a casual indifference that bites between her heartbeats and leaves behind its needle-sharp sting, if only while she is within him), going grocery shopping for the week. The normal routine.

Nothing is normal anymore once she reads up on the history of the Hidden Villages' darkest and worst-kept secret: the jinchuuriki. The human vessel necessary to contain a tailed beast.

When the information finally sinks in, Sakura leans back in her seat and stare past the ceiling, fighting the urge to cry, to vomit, to rage...something.

Naruto was a vessel for the Nine-Tailed Fox.

 _Of course_ he was; she and Tazuna saw the outline of burning orange chakra pouring out of him on the bridge in Wave Country. The way the shade of the tall, hunchbacked vulpine leaning over Naruto. The way Haku's ice mirrors cracked and buckled beneath the pressure, mere seconds before Naruto—or was it the Fox?-launched like a projectile missile at him.

 _Of course_ he was its vessel. How else could he have those ridiculous whiskers at thirteen? How else could he have been so terribly bad at chakra control and everything associated with it?

How else could everyone have hated and ignored him for simply being something he was not—and he himself knew not?

This is the moment that will stay forever etched in her memory, years down the road, steel in one hand and chakra in the other. It's the moment where she finally stands up, calmly and slowly, pushes the chair in, turns around, and walks out the door. Fists clenched, throat dry. The history book lay forgotten on the table. All she thinks about is going somewhere: to home, to the park, to the Third Training Ground. Somewhere. Anywhere. (That is what she focuses on, because if she so much as thinks further on the implications of what Lord Fourth Namikaze Minato did to Naruto, what he could have done to anyone born on the night of October tenth, Sakura doesn't know what she'll do. After all, you can't kill a man if he's already dead.)

(So she marches forward, one inch closer to death.)

The second day is spent all over the place. Sakura can't fathom to remember and, after everything that proceeds it, can't bring herself to give a damn. She thinks. She wrestles with her thoughts, her future, the world.

She thinks about herself, and hates, hates with the ironclad grip of a tyrant who squeezes the lifeblood of the broken and the downtrodden as much as he is able. Harder, harder, until his nails bite skin and draws the weakness out from his veins.

The public will know of Naruto as the boy who died to the last Konoha-loyal Uchiha and become a number in the history books.

The public will know of Sasuke as the boy who turned his back on the Will of Fire and embraced the shadows.

But what would the public think of Haruno Sakura? Who was she to them?

(Perhaps...as the girl who fawned after the boy who craved only vengeance and nearly destroyed a friendship with a girl she had known growing up?

(Perhaps...as the girl who stood to the side, in front of a bridge builder who lied to them about the mission they were undertaking, and did nothing while the boys put their lives on the line?

(Or perhaps...as the girl who nothing going for her; and why should she, when you had the Copy Ninja, the survivor of the Uchiha Massacre, and the jailer of the Nine-Tailed Fox to carry her useless self to a fame and notoriety that would be ultimately undeserved and unworthy of her name?)

But...what could _she_ be? Who gave a single god damn's worth what the public thinks about Haruno Sakura, a simple nobody?

What did _she_ want?

( _Would Naruto approve?_ She asks herself, and is rewarded only with silence.)

For the rest of that day, Sakura contemplates.

And on the following morning, she makes her decision.

* * *

A knock on the door, the loudest, heaviest sound in the world.

But to Lady Tsunade, it is an indicator that someone requires her attention. "Come in."

It opens, revealing the pink-haired girl behind it. Haruno Sakura, Kakashi's only remaining student. "Lady Tsunade, do you have a moment?"

Her face is set like hard stone that's weathered the fiercest storm, though most of it lurks behind the grim set of her eyes. Still, she doesn't appear to be troubled, and the day so far has been relatively quiet. "I have some time," she tells her, and sets down the ink pen. "What can I do for you?"

Sakura closes the door behind her, gently. She approaches the desk but doesn't take a seat. It's the first and only sign Tsunade gets. "I have two favors to ask you. Will you hear me out?"

"Hmm, that depends on what you ask...but I will. What's on your mind?"

"I want you to make me your apprentice."

Tsunade arches a brow and laces her hands together. "Oh?"

"I was useless to my team, you know. All I ever did was hang in the back and did nothing to help them while they did most of the work. Sasuke and Naruto...they both had training, before and after the Chuunin Exams. But me? I did nothing. I have nothing going for me other than well above average chakra control; I'm sure you've seen the records of all active Konoha ninja."

"Indeed I have. Kakashi has told me how precise your chakra control was even before the graduation exams; with enough training, you could pursue a career in specializing in genjutsu. But beyond that, I do agree that your combat skills have been cited to be found lacking, though the match records from the Chuunin Exams preliminaries showed you were able to hold your own well enough to end it in a double knockout; that's not easy to come by. So...if you should become my apprentice, you will not only have to learn more than just the basic taijutsu taught at the Academy but ninjutsu, too, as well as undergo medical training that has come into effect recently." Tsunade leans forward. "That is, if you choose to learn it, but I think it would be greatly beneficial for you to do so in that way your skills can grow and branch out further in the future."

Sakura nods. "Of course. But...I don't want to be just a medic. I need to be more than I am now, and,"-and here she sighs-"and as much as I want it to, I know it won't happen overnight. That's why I'm asking you, Lady Tsunade, if you'll have me as your student. You're, well, a lot more sane than Master Kakashi is."

If circumstances were different Tsunade would smile, but Kakashi has stopped joking around and is skirting the edge of sanity and single-minded vengeance. For once she's in agreement with the Council that he should be watched at all times, seeing as there's no way in hell he has no intention – nor shows any care – of being removed from the active roster to receive psychological treatment.

At least she'll be removed from his presence for the time she has her. He once told her the girl was clearheaded and able to persevere even in the most dire situation despite her subpar training. She could see it in her, the voracious hunger to consume knowledge and utilize it for not only herself but for the sake of her friends, family, and Konoha at large.

What had she said to Shikamaru? A medic-warrior needed a...special 'something', in order to learn.

Dan had it. Nawaki had it.

Naruto had it.

Tsuande quells the brief flicker of emotion that burbles in her chest, schools her face so Sakura doesn't see it come and go. "Very well then. I'll take you on...but I won't go easy on you. Do you understand?"

"I do, ma'am."

"Good. There are a few other things I have to attend to for the rest of the week, but starting Monday morning I want to see you first thing so we can begin your training. Now, what about this second favor?"

"I mean what I said earlier, Lady Tsunade. I don't want to be just an ordinary medic." A short beat, brief enough to be almost imperceptible, but she notes the way Sakura takes a breath before she resumes. "Which brings me to the second favor."

"And that is…?"

The girl looks her square in the eye. "Lady Tsunade, I want to be made the jinchuuriki for the Nine-Tailed Fox."

Tsunade stares at Sakura, jaw dropped. "You...what?"

"I said, I want to be made into a jinchuriki."

She scowls. "How do you know about this? Naruto's status is a classified secret. Who told you?"

"No one did." Sakura offers her a smile bereft of humor. "Lady Tsunade, it doesn't take a genius to do some research and put two and two together; it doesn't matter anymore if it was a secret. And, well, I wanted to ask you about the apprenticeship when I overheard your conversation with that man you were talking to the other day. Master Jiraiya, I think I heard his name was."

Tsunade bangs her fist against the desk, and it takes all of her restraint to not break it in half and drive it all the way to ground level several stories down. "I _told him_ to put a silencing jutsu on the damn room. I _told him_ people might hear!"

"It's okay, Lady Tsunade," Sakura says, gently. "It was done in the heat of the moment. You couldn't have known-"

"It is _not_ okay! How can you say that? After everything that's happened?"

"You couldn't have known because you were so concerned with finding a willing sacrifice. It's been a rough few months." Sakura heaves a quiet sigh. "We're only human, after all. Shinobi aren't as infallible as people think we are."

"How much did you hear?" Tsunade leans forward. "How much do you know?"

"I only heard up to you saying Master Kakashi might prove to be a rogue element if he's not monitored."

"And?"

"And...something about the Akatsuki going after eight other jinchuuriki. How Naruto's death pushes them back...somewhat."

Tsunade's scowl deepens. "That's it? You know nothing else?"

"I didn't plan to stick around. I'm sure you would've kept me quiet about everything if you had caught me."

"And I would have. You're a smart girl; I'm certain you've learned by now about the law Lord Third enacted toward anyone who spoke about the fate of the Nine-Tailed Fox."

"I did."

Tsunade reclines back in the chair, suddenly wishing for a long, tall glass of the hardest sake available in Fire Country. "And you expect me to believe you didn't up and tell anyone about this?"

Sakura shrugs. "Who would believe me? You and I know the tailed beasts can come back at any time, but to the rest of the world they must think they're as mortal as we are. To them, I'll bet they're of the belief that killing the Nine-Tailed Fox is like taking down a god."

"Except the jinchuuriki aren't gods," Tsunade quips. "If they were, they'd be feared yet respected. Love is an afterthought, and they would be wise to not incur the wrath of their Kage for so much as look their human sacrifice the wrong way. But as you said, shinobi are human; therefore, to human is to err, and to err is to be imperfect. Instead of respect and fear the jinchuuriki are ostracized and reviled regardless of whether or not they were born for the sole purpose of containing the tailed beast or were designated at a young age to become one to secure the balance that is the nature of life and death. It's part of the reason why Naruto's education was so lackluster when he could have been so much more, not just as a tool for Konoha to wield but perhaps even become one of the finest ninja this world has ever seen."

Through half-lidded eyes, she peers up at the girl. "At least you have something. At least you have parents. Naruto didn't. He was just another child who was born at the wrong place at the wrong time, but it was Lord Fourth's last wish for Naruto to be lauded as a hero for stopping the Fox that day. And you know what, Sakura? He barely even got that. He was vilified and mocked for wanting to be a ninja. For even dreaming of wanting to be Hokage. His only saving grace he had going for him was having Lord Sarutobi exert his influence enough to keep the malcontents in the village from exacting their futile brand of justice on him when he had no part in the attack at all...but even then, he was mostly left to his own devices—alone, with barely anyone to prepare him what was in store for him.

"Is that what you want, Sakura? Are you absolutely willing to sacrifice everything for a cause that may very well be beyond your capabilities? Are you willing to walk the same road Naruto was forced upon?"

"Lady Tsunade," Sakura begins, "I am the last, loyal member of Team Seven, and in this past year I've spent that time living in my own delusions, doing nothing to improve myself when I could have done more to keep my squad from falling apart. Fast forward a few months and the only person I can turn to help me get better is probably a day away from going off the deep end and taking the same path Sasuke is doing against his brother. I'd rather it be someone who knows how to face reality and keep the two of us grounded."

"But you're mad, too...aren't you? Sasuke is your first love. Who is to say you won't follow Kakashi on his mad quest?"

"Who said I was going to?" Sakura shoots back heatedly, and pauses, taken aback. Looks down, as though ashamed, clenching her small hand into a fist. "You're right. I am mad at Sasuke. I don't know if I can forgive him for that. But...he chose his path. I don't want vengeance. I don't even want justice. I just...want to make it up not only to myself...but I want to make it up to Naruto. For everything I've done to him. And...you're going to need people to fight the Akatsuki, right? I don't know how long it'd take for them to come after everyone, but they'll target us sooner or later, so what better way to get even with them and take back what's ours?"

"It's not that simple, trying to capture a tailed beast," Tsunade says. "We can't even guarantee you'll even survive the sealing process."

"We won't know until we try," Sakura persists, voice cracking on the last word. "Please, Lady Tsunade. Let me do something right for once in my life. Let me do this for Naruto."

For a long, agonizing moment, Tsunade says nothing. Hands laced together once more, she sits up in her chair and foregoes the thought of drinking herself under the table to assess the girl, and right away can tell what needs to be done. Everything that needs to be done to make her into the perfect ironclad vessel for the Nine-Tailed Fox and a killing machine that will strike fear into the hearts of Akatsuki. Perhaps even make Orochimaru think twice for ever attacking Konoha and betraying Master Sarutobi.

Sakura may not want it but such sweet revenge it would be to have the weakest link of Team Seven ruin all his plans and topple the dominoes from there. "Are you sure?" Tsunade asks. "Once we do this, there's no going back."

"I have never felt more sure of myself than I have now, Lady Tsunade. Let's get started."

* * *

All these troubles could have been avoided.

All this pain could have been mitigated.

But perhaps this is a step in the right direction.

Perhaps, Sakura thinks, staring into the eyes of the Beast behind its cage, this will be the beginning of a new dawn for the shinobi world. After all, Naruto left behind a lot of promises, a lot of regrets, yet there is only so much time in one day.

That's alright. She can't accomplish everything. Neither can Orochimaru or the Akatsuki. Even Sasuke.

"Back again?" the Fox says with a huff. "You're as tenacious as the Uzumaki woman before you. For the last time, I am not giving you my power. Your contract with the slug and the seal on your brow is more than enough. Or," it picks its head up from where it lay on its paws and directs an eye full of wicked glee upon her, "could it be that is your intention? Scrounge enough resources and chakra in one singular point and you will be akin to that of a god...and let me tell you, girl, tyrants have often toted themselves to be saviors of this world, preaching peace and change that is almost utopian." It bestows her a sharp, vicious grin. "Is that true, girl? Do you wish to become Hokage?"

Sakura returns it with a beatific smile of her own. "All I want is for the fighting to stop. Nothing more. And if you value your life so much, you're going to help me earn it."

"HA! Good luck with that, brat! You people are all the same. No matter how much time passes, no matter what systems you may put in place, so long as evil lurks within his heart mankind will always put himself above the rest and wage war with one another; in the end, they shall destroy themselves. All that will remain of your presence will be your weapons of mass destruction, your fallen cities, and God's green earth for the gentle and the meek to inherit. Oh, how quiet it will be! I may finally be able to get a pleasant night's rest."

"Oh, you'll get it, Kurama," she tells the Fox as it settles into a light slumber. In the dim glow of the halogen lamps on the ceiling and the bulbs on the walls, the beast almost looks soft enough to cradle in her hands. Like a ball of flame to be nurtured and tended to, lest it grow out of control. "We all will."

* * *

 **Addendum:** It's never mentioned (at least to my knowledge) how long it takes for a slain tailed beast to regenerate. Rin had Isobu sealed in her by the end of the Third War, and according to Seelantau's timeline on the Naruto wiki it's at least seventeen years before Deidara and Tobi capture and seal it in the Gedo Mazo. So while the final scene in the story doesn't state how much time has passed, I like to think it's at least four-five years later, a couple after Kurama is sealed in Sakura and there's been more of a pushback against the Akatsuki, thereby delaying the possibility of a Fourth Ninja World War.


End file.
